Dead in DC
by Benji The Vampire Confuser
Summary: Just when you think life can't get any worse, you die. And sometimes, even then, life goes on. The contiuing adventures of the External Causes division of Washington DC.
1. Chapter 1

**Dead in DC**

**By Benji The Vampire Confuser**

_Based on the show Dead Like Me which is owned and created by them that ain't me._

**Today is the First Day of the Rest of Your Afterlife**

You're all going to die. I hate to remind you, but it is on your schedule. Probably won't happen when, or how you'd like it to. Take me for instance. Whenever I allowed myself to think about actually dying, I'd always picture it as something heroic, taking a bullet for someone or something. Or in my more dramatic moments, bravely dying of a terminal illness while all my friends and family helped me live my final days or weeks or months or whatever to the fullest. Realistically I supposed however, whenever it happened, I'd want it to be quick. So quick in fact that I didn't even realize it was happening. I didn't want to know what hit me. I wasn't so much worried about pain, I just didn't want to have time to be afraid of it.

Never, even in my most fevered imaginings did I think I'd go due to an overzealous girl-friend with a thing for breath play. On the one hand, at least I went having, and giving a good time. On the other, as deaths go, it's kind of embarrassing.

"Hey you think _you_ feel bad," Ashley said. "Think how your girlfriend feels."

Ashley's Undead. No, she's not a vampire, though at the moment she's dressed like one. I wonder how many vampires are actually Goth. I bet not even half. No, Ashley, as I am soon to be, is a Grim Reaper.

You heard right, a Grim Reaper. Not THE Grim Reaper, A Grim Reaper. Reapers have the not inconsiderable task of taking folks' souls who are about to die, and sending them on their way to the afterlife, whatever it is. Not even Reapers have the clearance for that information.

So here I am, dead of asphyxiation, watching my severely traumatized girlfriend weep while my body is wheeled out of her apartment building in a body bag. Which by the way is tactfully covered with a sheet. Well I'm glad they spared Veronica the trauma of seeing the body bag.

"If you'd gone to a professional this never would have happened." Ashley said.

Up till now I'd mostly been ignoring her, but that comment drew my attention. "Oh? You know a bit about that?" An eyebrow raised, and naughty thoughts as well. Were ghosts allowed to flirt with Reapers? Should I be flirting anyway? Hell my girlfriend is sitting not ten feet from me. I want to reassure her that I'm okay, so to speak, but I've got no idea how to go about it.

Ashley smiled mysteriously and looked at her watch. "Wouldn't you like to know. Okay dead boy let's get a move on."

Go? Already? But I've barely had time to assimilate this. I was dead. And I don't mind telling you, there was no end to the relief I felt, being, you know, still around. "So what's the afterlife like?" I asked. "Really? Heaven? Hell? Reincarnation?"

"Honestly?" Ashley asked. "I have no idea."

"What?" I can't believe that. "How do you have no idea? You're not an angel?"

Ashley barks a laugh and turns to face me, in all her sexy, dark, gothic beauty. "Despite my occasional wearing of fake black feathered wings, do I look like an angel to you sweetie?"

I had to allow that she did not. At least not how most people would picture an angel.

"No my dear," she continued, "I'm a Reaper."

"As in Grim Reaper?"

"Only when I haven't had my morning coffee."

"Oh. So, did you kill me?"

"Bite your tongue. Reapers don't kill anyone. We merely take your soul, preferably BEFORE you die so you don't feel it. Then we guide said soul to it's destination."

"So you took my soul?"

"No. Remember the girl that stopped you on the street? Just before you turned onto your girlfriend's block?"

Can ghosts blush? Cause I was feeling heat on my face. Boy howdy did I remember her. Crazy girl asked my name, and upon learning it, shoved her tongue down my throat. Not a bad kiss at all, but hey, GIRLFRIEND! My guilt over that little encounter may have helped me give in to Veronica's pleading for my final sex act.

"She called it the `Kiss of Death`."

I snickered, and covered my eyes for a moment. "Oy that's terrible."

"Yeah. Sweet girl but she was kind of a slut."

"So why isn't she here?"

"That's complicated."

By this time we'd arrived at a small two door sedan that Ashley unlocksed I reached for the door handle only to see my hand turn into smoke as I tried to grip it. My blood ran cold. Or, the ghostly equivalent of that. "Jesus." I tried again, then merely pushed my hand through the window, watching my fingers reform on the other side of the glass. "Jesus." I muttered again.

Ashley waited patiently for a moment, a kind of, reminiscent type look on her face. "Hey, John, it's okay. You're still here. You're fine. Just, step through the door and have a seat."

Rrrright. On the other hand, it worked, and again, I instinctively did what I did when I was alive, reach for the seatbelt. That didn't work either. Can ghosts hyperventilate? I counted to ten and managed to relax as the car pulled out and started following the ambulance. Okay I was a ghost. No problem. I could deal with that. Depending on how much time I had before heading into the hereafter, this could actually be fun. I did seem to recall promising to haunt one of my friends just to fuck with him a bit.

"So," I asked. "Why are we following the Ambulance. Do you moonlight as a lawyer?"

"Nope, a Dominatrix."

Okay, can't say I was surprised there.

"We're going to watch your autopsy."

Ew. "Ew! I don't wanna watch people cut open anyone's body, let alone mine!" I shuddered. Never could watch the gory horror movies.

"It helps in the saying goodbye thing."

"So I have to watch my own autopsy?!"

"Well, no you don't _have_ to." She glances at me. "Does it really bother you that much? That body in the back of that ambulance, isn't you. You're sitting next to me. A dead body is just a shell."

"Look I'm sure as a Reaper you see this sort of thing all the fucking time, but being dead's kinda new to me!" I retorted. "Just a shell or not, it's still…" I couldn't think of how to finish that sentence.

"Hang on." She said, pulling over next to a parking meter. Reaching into the glove box she pulled out a cell phone. "Bossman." She said into the phone. Apparently that was the prompt for dialing someone. "Hey Walt. Yeah it's confirmed, Susie's no longer with us." Was that a tear? Was she getting misty eyed? I wasn't sure what was going on, but I was starting to get that, I weren't hardly the only one what lost something there that day. Jesus my family, how was this gonna affect 'em? We'd only lost my Grandmother half a year ago, and my Granddaddy a year before her.

"Yeah he's right here. Uh huh, no he's not too keen on it. Kinda squeamish."

Jeeze she didn't have to make it sound like I ran screaming from a mouse or something.

"What's the point of an autopsy anyway?" I asked. "Isn't it obvious what killed me?"

Ashley was still on the phone. "Yeah. Okay." Finally she finished and turned to me. "Procedure or something. Anyway, Walt's gonna meet us there."

"Who's Walt?" Bizarrely I got an image of meeting Mr. Disney.

"My boss. He who hands out the post-its."

"Heh?"

"Later for that."

Soon enough we got to the hospital, and there was Walt. It wasn't the mouse guy. Which is good 'cause that'd just have been _too_ weird. Walt's a heavy-set Native American man with short white hair. He's got kind of a calm, patient look on his face, almost all the time.

"John," Ashley introduced us, "Walt."

Walt nodded kindly at me. "Ashley tells me you're not too keen on seeing your body."

"Uh," I said, a bit distracted. "Yeah."

Shit, I knew this place. When I was 15 I got my tonsils removed here. And my mom told me I was born here. How weird is that? Born here, and now I returned, for the final time.

Kind of in a daze I suppose, I followed them into the hospital and into the morgue. I found I didn't feel any disgust or even wigged in the slightest upon entering said morgue.

"Excuse me," Walt said, getting the attention of the coroner. "I'm Professor Walter Berenstein from G.W., this is my student Ashley Waters. I wanted her to observe an autopsy for a paper she's writing."

That's one of the first things you learn as a reaper. How to bullshit. It doesn't particularly have to be good bullshit, just good enough to last for an hour or so.

"That's fine," the coroner said. Though he looked dubiously at Ashley. She didn't exactly look like a med student. But I guess it takes all kinds right? "As a matter of fact, he continued. "We just got a new case in now." He walked over to a table with a body on it. The sheet covered everything but the feet. I knew those feet. Not that I pay a lot of attention to my feet, but you get the idea. "John A Hancock." He read the tag tied to my big toe. "No shit."

How many times have I had to tell people that that really is my name? While the guy's back is turned, Ashley turns to me.

"You don't have to look." She whispered.

But you know what? I did. Call me morbid if you want, but I just couldn't help watching as the guy pulled the sheet away, and there I was. Naked. I kinda wished Ashley wasn't looking, but I felt, actually kinda detached as I edged closer to my body. I looked actually kind of, peaceful. I'd have expected either some kind of expression of panic, or well, pleasure. I guess since my soul wasn't technically in my body at the time, there had been no panic. In fact, I didn't remember freaking out, even when I was losing consciousness.

"I'll take this kid into the operating theater and you can watch from the audience." The coroner said. "Weird thing, I heard this kid got suffocated by his girlfriend in a moment passion." He shook his head, and I glared at him.

"Go ahead," I growled at him, knowing he couldn't hear me, "Say something clever."

"Why don't girls like that ever fall for me?" he finally said.

"Because being a coroner is creepy?" I asked.

I didn't watch the actual autopsy. I don't like gore. I could never watch those shows on cable that had the surgery and stuff, and I never watched gory horror movies.

"So what happens next?" I asked. "I mean after dude down there figures out that I really did die of asphyxiation."

"Next is your funeral."

My eyes lit up. "I get to go to my own funeral?" Whenever I did think about my own death, I usually invariably imagined what my funeral would be like.

"Yes," Walt said. "_You_ do."

I didn't get to find out why he put it like that until much later.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The funeral was, well maybe not all I'd hoped for. Remember all I'd had to go on were fantasies, and let's be honest, who fantasizes about small funerals? All my family were there, hell, even relatives that I hadn't seen in so long I wasn't sure who they were. And yeah, a lot of my friends were there too. But not as many as I'd hoped.

Not to say I blamed the friends who didn't show up. I've lost touch with a lot of folks, so there's a lot of people who probably didn't ever hear about my demise or funeral. No the biggest disappointment was in the service itself I supposed. Kind of dry. Readings from the bible and such. No inside jokes, no memories recited. One or two of my favorite songs were sung, which was nice. But it wasn't until the wake that things picked up.

I stayed out of the way in a corner, and just sort of watched. Stories were told, condolences were given, Mom even broke out the photo albums. I kinda lost track of Ashley and Walt. They'd passed themselves off as an old friend and teacher respectively. I guess they're experienced at this kind of thing, cause they've managed to avoid conversation with the people who might be able to contradict their stories.

Ashley sidled up beside me, her mysterious smile plastered on her face. "Is it everything you hoped for?" she asked.

"Well I could have done with a twenty one gun salute, but this is nice too. What's got you smiling?"

"You'll see."

I sighed and shrugged. I had a feeling I wasn't going to get an answer anytime soon. Girls with mysterious smiles don't tend to let go of their secrets till they're ready. I didn't see anyone crying. Not sure how I felt about that, I mean, on the one hand, I hate seeing people cry. It makes me feel awkward and guilty, even if it's got nothing to do with me. On the other hand, Hey! I'm dead! Make with the keening!

No I guess that's part of why I'm staying in the corner. I have a feeling if I wandered around, I might find folks who've gone off by themselves to cry.

That's when I spotted her. "Holy shit." I took off, passing through two people in my way in my hurry to get to the back yard.

"Hey," Ashley said indignantly, and took off after.

I'd caught a glimpse through the window. Wasn't sure it was really her. I mean, of all people to show up, she was the person I was least expecting. I mean, not even Veronica was here. And who can blame her? I'm glad she's not here, I wouldn't want her to have to face this crowd. Though I do hope she'll come visit my grave at least once. Twice. Okay a lot.

"Who's that?" Ashley asked, leaning against the railing of the back porch. The girl sitting on the tire swing had her back to us. Her hair was longer, but it was her. Jesus. "John?"

"Wha? Oh. Sorry. Her name's Sarah. Ex-girlfriend."

"Oh? How ex?"

"I treated her like shit."

I guess she wasn't expecting an admission like that. "What?"

"I wasn't always a very well adjusted person. I was, paranoid, insecure."

Ashley looked down, but I wasn't looking at her. So I didn't see her glancing at her wrists.

"I started thinking that, every un-returned phone call, every time she was too busy to talk or go out…"

"You thought she was avoiding you."

"Yeah. Hell I even thought she'd started screening her calls. Course by the time we broke up…I stopped blaming her a long time ago, but by then I had no idea where she was. Kinda always wanted to apologize though."

Ashley must have seen the look in my eyes when I looked at her. "No." she said. "No way. Uh uh, against the rules dead boy."

"Oh c'mon! People talk to ghosts all the time!"

"Yeah, crazy people! Or ghosts that should know better!"

"Ashley, please. I'll never get another chance, I've thought about her, how I treated her, every day since we split. Please. Last request?"

Ashley glared.

* * *

"Excuse me." Sarah turned to see who was speaking. She wasn't even sure why she'd come, much less wanted to talk to anyone. There was a reason she'd left everything, and everyone behind.

"Are you Sarah Evans?" the goth girl approaching her asked tentatively.

"Uhm, yeah." Sarah said. She blinked, and brushed her short black hair back from her face. "Have we met?"

"No," the girl said, "I'm Ashley Waters." She sat down on the swing set, letting the swing take her where it would. "I uh, me and John took an acting class together."

"Acting?" Sarah was surprised. "When did he get into that?" She was so surprised she forgot to ask the girl how she knew who she was.

"Last year. He was in a production of Rent, and he wanted to, you know, not look like a jackass."

Sarah harrumphed. "Jackass."

Ashley sighed. "Yeah that bothered him."

"What?"

"He showed me your picture once." Ashley said. "That's, that's how I recognized you. Except for the shorter hair I guess."

"Were you two…"

"No. No with the dating. Just friends." She let the silence hang a bit before she continued. "He talked about you a lot."

"He did?" Again, Sarah was surprised. John had never seemed one to open up about his past to one he didn't know really well.

"Yeah, at first just when he was drunk, but, yeah. He never stopped thinking about how he treated you. He used to say you were the best friend he ever had. And he wished he had a chance to tell you that. And to apologize for, and I quote, `being a neurotic ass`."

* * *

"You owe me." Ashley growled in the front yard, as we watched Sarah depart. Apparently she didn't want to run into anymore "old friends".

"Sure. Just leave a message with Charon on where to deliver."

She thwapped me in the head. I guess Reapers can do that. Touch ghosts I mean. "Ow."

"Smart ass."

"And proud of it. I think it's the Irish in me."

"Oh the Irish by no means have the monopoly on being smartasses." Walt said.

I jumped about ten feet. "Jesus is that silent moving thing genetic or something?"

Walt smirked. "Ready to go?"

I took a last look at my house. Am I? I can hear music from the open front door. Someone laughs, one of those too loud laughs like when they're covering something up. There was nothing more to say was there? I got to apologize to someone I owed an apology to. There was nothing more to see. Anyone who was coming, was here. And there was nothing more to do. Goodbye house. Goodbye parents. Goodbye friends. Goodbye dog, goodbye cat. Goodbye book that lies on the shelf. Goodbye picture, goodbye moon.

There's a lot I wish I'd done. I never got to see Disney World, or go to Alaska. I never got to write the next great American folk song. I never read Moby Dick. I never…well shit this list could go on forever. But when it comes right down to it…

"No. But I guess it's time to go anyway isn't it."

Walt nodded, and Ashley took my hand and squeezed it. "Let's go."

* * *

"The afterlife looks a lot like Denny's." I remarked dryly.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"This is Denny's." Walt answered. "John my boy it's time to explain a few things to you."

"The door to the afterlife is through Denny's?"

"No."

"Denny's _is_ the afterlife? Is it heaven or hell?"

Walt looked like he was either gonna laugh or belt me. I get that look a lot. Then I got the pleasant sensation of Ashley shutting me up with a hand over my mouth.

"Let him speak." She admonished me. Hey when a hot girl does that, you listen. Or I do anyway, I've always been fond of girls' hands. Over the mouth was a new one for me though. Again with the touching. I'd gotten kinda used to not being able to feel anything. But that wa twice that she…

Wait a minute, now that I thought about it, I was suddenly aware of being able to feel the bench under my ass. And the coolness of the table. Ashley must be good at reading people's eyes.

"That's right John," she said, taking her hand from my mouth, "Your corporeal again."

"How and why?" I hissed. If I could be touched, that meant I could be seen and heard, and hey, only a few blocks from my house, suppose someone I knew walked in? Plus this was a conversation probably best not had loudly.

"That's what we have to explain to you." Walt said. "Congratulations John, you just got a second lease on life. You're a Reaper."

"…And you were going to tell me this when?"

Walt looked at his watch. "Right about now."

"Every Reaper has a set quota of souls they have to reap." Ashley explained. "We have no idea what that quota is. Not until we've reaped the last one. Then we move on. From what I hear we get big bonus points for participating."

"So, that girl,"

"Susie."

"Right, so I was Susie's last reap? And so now I take her place?"

"You got it stud." Ashley grinned happily. "You caught on faster than I did."

"You never know until you've reaped your last soul? So it's, kinda just like death the first time."

Walt raised an eyebrow. "Actually yeah. Philosopher?"

"Musician."

"Close enough."

"Hey you folks ready to order?"

I hope not too many people noticed me jump. Was she a waitress or a ninja?

"I'll have the grand slam breakfast with orange juice." Walt ordered. Ashley ordered French toast and coffee.

"And you sir?"

Guess I was gonna have to get used to being visible again. Damn I was kinda liking being, well, not. "Uh, nothing for-" I seemed to have left my wallet in my other life.

"Special occasion, I'm paying." Walt assured me. "Get something. You've had a big day."

No shit. "In that case, gimme the pancake platter with side of hash browns and apple juice."

"Coming right up."

Soon as she was gone I whirled on Walt. "Okay so how's this work? Do I get a cloak and scythe? Do, I have to kiss people?"

"Uhm, no on both counts." Walt said. "For one thing I don't think we'd appreciate you stealing Susie's shtick."

"Right. Got it. So…"

"Most of this is a learn as you go, hands on thing." Walt said. "But here are the basics. I give you a post-it, on it is the first, and sometimes middle, initial, last name, location, and estimated time of death for your reap. You get there in time to take their soul out, _before_ they die, if at all possible. After that, you see them on their way."

"Okay, sounds simple enough, except for the whole thing. How do I take the soul out?"

"You touch them." Ashley explained. "Doesn't have to be a big touch, just a hand shake, or brushing your hand lightly. But just bumping them won't do it."

"It's instinctual." Walt said. "You'll figure it out. And you can quit casting nervous glances at the door. Even if someone you knew walks in they won't recognize you."

"Oh."

Walt probably noticed my not so subtle disappointment. "Yeah, so no going up to your parents and telling them who you are. They won't appreciate it." He looked up at the door himself and nodded in satisfaction. "Ah, here's the others."

Coming in the door was a trio of people who looked like something out of one of those sesame street sketches. You know, the one that goes `Two of these things belong together…` An Asian lady, who could have been either 30, or 50 as far as I could tell from her appearance, an old black man in a severe business suit and glasses, and a tall, black haired guy dressed in expensive looking, trendy clothes. He was glowering at me.

"This the newbie?" he asked without preamble.

"Yes, are you the oldie?" The guy rubbed me the wrong way, what can I say?

"Oh this is off to a wonderful start." The Asian woman said.

"Don't start." The older guy said. "I know, too late, but try to keep it civil at least?"

Oldie and I scowled at each other a bit while the others looked either annoyed or amused.

"John, meet Vince, T'ing, and Mack." Walt introduced Scowly, the Asian woman, and the business man respectively.

"Pleasure." Mack said cordially.

"Don't mind Vince." T'ing said, sinking into the seat beside me, sandwiching me between her and Ashley. I really didn't mind. "He was rather fond of Susie." She whispered.

Mack took a seat beside Walt, while Vince stole a chair from another table and sat in it backwards. Oh Vince you rebel you.

"Everyone," Walt said, "This is John. In case you hadn't heard already, Susie has moved on. John has taken her place."

Vince scowled deeper, T'ing smiled at me, though she looked a little sad, and Mack crossed himself.

"God be with her." He said.

"And this," Walt smirked, "Is the External Causes Reaper Division of Washington D.C."

"The fun division." Vince said with a slight smile.

"External causes?"

"Murder, suicide, accidents." T'ing said.

"Occasionally, very bizarre accidents." Walt smirked.

Mack remained serious. "I believe, some of us may want to hold a memorial service of sorts for Susie. I'm offering up my place for just such a thing."

"Thanks man." Vince said sincerely.

"That sounds lovely," T'ing said, "Should we bring anything?"

"Liquor and plenty of it?" Ashley suggested with a grin. "Susie's favorite?"

Mack's turn to scowl, but Walt laughed. "Sounds good to me. Say, tomorrow, 7 o'clock?"

They all agreed, and I just sat there feeling awkward.

"I guess you should come too." Vince said reluctantly. "Not a good idea to leave the newbies on their own so soon."

"Thanks." He was so nice to me.

"Glad you feel that way," Walt said. "You can take him to Mack's house after the ride along."

Vince blinked. "Excuse me?"

"John'll tag along on your reap tomorrow. Show him how it's done."

"Why do I get stuck with the newbie?!"

"A couple of reasons. One, it amuses me to stick him with you since you two got off so famously, and two, because I said so." This was the first time I heard Walt use anything other than a jovial tone. Maybe the fact that it was so rare made it so effective.

The next day I found myself strolling along the streets of DC with Vince. He was less scowly today, might have something to do with his `convenient reap`.

"So how is this so convenient?"

"Because I have to be there anyway." Vince explained. "Y'see newbie, my reap today has pissed off the wrong people. And these wrong people wish to make an example of him."

"And…how do you know this?" I asked, with no small amount of trepidation.

"I work for those same people." He said calmly. "Strictly a desk job, but they expect me to turn out for these things to keep me honest. Relax, even if they spot you they can't do anything to you. You're already dead."

"So, you work for the mob."

"Yeah."

"Doing, what?"

"Told you, desk job."

"Er, right."

"Don't worry about it." Vince assured me again. He looked up as we reached a Starbucks near the gallery place metro station. "Okay, the guy's got a huge hard on for Starbucks, has a doughnut and latte every morning. Wait here, count to ten and then come in and find me. Get something if you want."

"No money."

"You'll have to work on that."

Waaiit a minute. "Wait a minute, we don't get paid do we."

"No. Fraid not."

"Well that sucks!"

"Yes." That's all he said before he went in.

I sighed and counted to ten. When I came in, Vince was standing in line for the register. As I watched, he `accidentally` jostled a guy while he walked to the pick-up counter. There was, I don't know how to describe it, but I could tell that this was our guy, and he had just been divested of his soul. It was, kinda cool, and kinda creepy at the same time.

Vince smirked at me. "See?"

"Yeah, so, what happens now-holy shit what the fuck is that?!"

"Shh!" Vince hissed, casting a grin at the customers who were now staring in my direction. "Tourettes." He explained. "Bro, you forget your meds this morning, c'mon." he dragged me out of the store.

"What the hell-"

"That was a Graveling." He said. "Those are the things that cause the…causes of people's deaths. At least when it comes to our division." We were on the move again. "They're scary, but they're a vital part of the system. Long as you do nothing to disrupt the system, they won't bother you."

"What do you mean disrupt-"

"Wait here."

"What?"

"Wait, here. What part of that was difficult for you newbie?"

"The motive."

"The motive is I don't feel like explaining to my boss a tag along. Wait here, and watch what happens."

"Hey!" I called. He paused and looked back.

"What?"

"Your desk job requires you to be at or near the…"

"What kind of example would it be if no one saw it? Stay. We'll pick you up."

"We?"

`We` turned out to be Vince, and Mr. L Prosser. Who, amazingly enough, was in rather good spirits.

"Bastard'll never find the money." He was boasting. "He won't even know it's missing until it's too late."

Vince smirked. "I don't suppose you could do me a favor and let me in on it. It'd really make me look good if I find it."

"I think you're missing the point of the whole, revenge from beyond the grave."

"Well," Vince shrugged, "No harm in asking."

And what happened next? Well Mr. Prosser, who'd been run over by the way, walked into a cave made of light, and disappeared. He never did divulge the secret location of the money. Vince didn't mind. He said in retrospect it might just make his boss think he was in on it.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Not all of my reaps are so easy." Vince told me as we headed for Mack's place. "And chances are, most of yours won't be. I just happen to have the perfect day job for a lot of this."

"Uh, yeah I'd guess so. How, how'd you get into…"

"What the mob? I knew the ins and outs from before."

"Oh. Uh okay. Is that how you died?"

Vince gave me a look. "Free bit of etiquette advice for you kid. Never ask a Reaper that question. I personally don't mind, but some don't like discussing it. I mean, you wouldn't exactly like your death story to get around would you?"

"Eeesh," I said with a wince. "Good point. Sorry."

"Sokay." He sighed. "Like I said, I don't mind. Ever hear the phrase, live by the sword die by the sword? Well it's the same thing with guns."

"You were a hit man?"

"Yep. One of my jobs was better than me, and viola, here I am."

"Doing, pretty much the same thing."

"Look kid," he scowled again. "Don't get all high and mighty guilt ridden on us all right? We don't kill anyone. People die. It's sad sometimes but sometimes it's beautiful, and either way it has to happen. That guy? Dead whether I was there or not. He didn't feel any pain when he went and he had someone there to ease the journey. We perform a public service, a good one. We're not murderers. I won't deny that my old job gave me a unique perspective that helped me adjust to this pretty quickly though."

"Yeah I guess it would." I said, still pretty creeped out by him.

"So wh-"

"1929, Chicago." He shot me another glare. "Susie was the one to greet me."

We didn't talk anymore after that. Which was fine with me because I found Vince, well, creepy.

Well we talked briefly when we go to the store.

"Lemme guess, Susie's favorite liquor and plenty of it?"

"No you dipshit." He said derisively. "Everyone's favorite ice cream and plenty of it. What's yours?"

For such an irascible guy, he sure seemed to remember everyone's favorite flavors of ice cream. Ashley: Coffee. T'ing, Rocky Road. Mack, Cookies and Cream, Walt: Cherry Garcia. Vince was partial to Raspberry Sherbet. I'm lactose intolerant.

"What's it gonna do, kill ya?"

Mack had a nice, small house just where Bethesda bordered DC. I recognized Ashley's car parked out front, and two more. Vince shoved the grocery bag into my arms the minute we were out of the car. "I paid, you carry."

He didn't bother with the doorbell, just walked in. And was almost bowled over by two kids.

"Guess it pays to announce your approach sometimes after all huh?" asked a middle aged guy with sandy blond hair. He smirked at Vince, then turned to me, divesting me of the bag. "I'll go put these in the freezer, you bring enough for everybody?"

"Didn't know you three were gonna be here." Vince growled. "Guess I should've guessed."

"Yeah you really should have. The others are out back." He turned to me. "You the new kid?"

"Yep. John Hancock."

"You're shitting me."

"I'm not."

"How many times you have to tell people that?"

"That I'm not shitting them about my name? I've lost count."

"Heh. Well pleased t' meet you John, I'm Charlie. Go grab a burger from the grill. T'ings cookin' and you can't go wrong there." He lowered his voice. "Treat 'er real nice and she'll treat you nice hey? She's got a thing for the younger guys know what I'm sayin'?" he smirked.

I wasn't sure I did. He was talking kinda fast like one of those tv lawyers or something.

I should probably take this opportunity to explain a few things about Reapers in general, and this group specifically. Reapers are assigned to different divisions. Myself, Vince, T'ing, Ashley, Mack and Walt are the External Causes Division for instance. Now within that division, sometimes people specialize. Vince naturally tends to get the organized crime reaps, while Mack usually gets the upscale politicians and businessmen. Because they come from that background and know how to get around.

Typically you stick with the division you were `born` into. Since I died in an accident, I'm in the division I'm in. But apparently if you ask really really nicely, you can get transferred.

Charlie here, works in Infectious diseases. And the kids? They reap animals. Do the divisions usually fraternize like this? On occasion yeah. And this? Was an occasion.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mack said. "Recently, our fellow reaper, our friend, Susan Chase, moved on from this world." One of the kids, a little girl, looked particularly grieved, as Ashley held her. What was weird was, both the girl, and the little boy, had the look in their eyes, of someone much older. Of course for all I knew they'd been Reapers for over a hundred years.

"Susan was born in Arlington Virginia, in 1890. She never spoke much about her life to me, but I know that she died in a boating accident on the Potomac, in 1910. She was a reaper for a little over 90 years. Almost a century. Those are the facts as I know them, though we worked together for many years, we were never exactly close, merely colleagues. But some of you here were her close friends. It's for you that we're really gathered tonight."

"Ms. Susie took care of us." The little girl spoke up. "Her and Charlie. Most, most of us live on the streets, cause we can't get jobs and, and it's hard to, to reap when you have to dodge foster parents."

Ashley stroked the girl's hair as she began to cry, and the little boy took the girl's hand.

"She tended to get the little kid reaps." Charlie piped up. "She never said, but I got the feeling, watching her with the kids, that she must have had a few rug rats back in her living days. Way she looked at 'em, either these two," he indicated the nino-reapers, "When she put 'em to bed, or the kids she reaped, when they were goin' on to wherever we go, you could tell. She was missin' somebody."

"She loved kids." Ashley agreed. "And, adults. She could sometimes go overboard with her affection for adults." She smirked at me. Vince scowled.

"She did have kids." Vince said. "A boy and a girl. They died in the fire that killed her."

I kept myself to myself during most of that night. This was a night for them. For Susie's friends and co-workers and Jesus! How long was that kid sitting there staring at me?!

"Hi." he said.

"Uh, hi."

"You're the guy Ms. Susie got to take her place right? I'm Tim."

"Yeah. Name's John."

"Ms. Susie was nice."

"So I hear."

"Wonder what she's doing now?"

The kid seemed to have grasped something that, I wasn't sure I'd gotten yet. Susie didn't die. She left. And even when people do die, they just, leave. The problem is you don't get to say good bye all the time.

"Off hand, I'd say hanging out with her kids."

"I didn't know she had kids. No one knew that."

"Vince did."

"Yeah." There was a pause. "She and Vince were boyfriend and girlfriend."

"I figured as much yeah." So was he glaring at me all the time because I was taking his girl's place? Or because she'd kissed me? "So you're a reaper?"

"Yuhuh! Me'n Izzy reap animals when they die."

"All animals? Don't, hundreds of insects die every day?"

"…Idano."

Charlie and the kids're gone, Walt and Vince are reading the obituaries playing who reaped who, and Ashley and T'ing are watching TV. And I'm sulking on the patio. No, not sulking. Brooding. No, wait, better yet, contemplating. Yeah, contemplating.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Mack asked, coming outside.

"I don't have change for that."

Mack smiled slightly. "You don't have to stand outside you know, you're one of us now. This party should be as much for you as anyone else."

"Except I didn't know Susie. First time I met her was when she *ahem*. Say, since she er, reaped me before I got to my girlfriend's place, is that why I had clothes on after I was dead?"

Mack's smile widened. "Oh, yes I think that's why. Incidentally you're not the only one out there with an embarrassing death story. I've heard tell of a young lady out in the pacific northwest who was beaned by a toilet seat falling from orbit."

Wait, that sounded familiar. My friend Barry loved weird shit like that. "I think I've heard about that. She's a Reaper?"

"Oh yes." There was a bit of silence. "It takes some getting used to." He said. "Being a Reaper. But try to remember that we're performing an act of mercy, not murder. Remember, if Susie hadn't been there for you, you'd have died anyway, and felt it. And then you'dve been stuck inside your body."

"Yeah that would have sucked."

"Indeed."

"So, I need to go find myself someplace to live now right?"

"That's tomorrow. Walt'll take you out to get a new identity, hopefully find you a place to live. As for a job, you're on your own there I'm afraid. For tonight, I'm told my couch is very comfortable."

It was.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Mornin' Walt."

Walt was sitting in a booth at the IHoP off Georgia Avenue, reading a book by Christopher Moore. "John, Mack, good morning." He greeted. "I imagine the others'll be here shortly. Have a seat."

We did, and sure enough, it wasn't long before we were joined by the rest of the team. Almost as soon as she sat down, next to me as it turns out, T'ing told me she was buying me breakfast.

"You can pay me back later." she smiled. A raised eyebrow from Ashley and Charlie's comment the night before made me wonder just how T'ing was expecting me to pay her back. How long after you died was it okay to start dating again?

"So, do we always meet in restaurants like this?" I asked.

"Mostly." Walt answered. "It's the most convenient place to meet. I think it's traditional too. Way I hear it teams all over meet in places like this to get their assignments."

Which turned out to be a nice segue into handing said assignments out. Mack looked at his post it and looked intrigued.

"Your guy gonna wind up on the news?" Vince asked.

"Well they all end up in the news in some form." Mack said philosophically. "But yes I believe this one might cause a bit of a stir."

"Cool." Ashley giggled. "Those are the most fun." She looked at her own post it and whistled.

T'ing sighed at her job. "Oh that's all the way over in PG." She pulled a blackberry out of her purse, and did some checking. "Oh thank goodness it's metro accessible. Gas prices are really hurting."

Vince was already on his cell. "Yeah I'll be there, no problem. Gotta lunch date though so I'll have to duck out for an hour or two. No, different girl."

And lo and behold, I had a post it of my very own. I looked at the address. "I don't know where this is."

"Lemme see." Ashley leaned over T'ing and snatched my post it from my hand. "Ooh! We've got a double header! We're both going clubbing tonight John. You'll have to get some clothes while you're out with Walt today."

"We're going shopping?"

"Apparently." Walt smirked. "Mostly we're getting you you're new identity though."

That part actually kind of appealed to me. It made me feel like a secret agent. "Cool."

* * *

Ah the DMV. I once heard someone joke that if James Bond had had to come here for his license to kill, he'd have used it before he ever got out of the building. I wasn't sure who he'd kill though. The apathetic clerks who's only joy in life probably comes in sticking it to the poor schmucks standing in line? Or the poor schmucks who lose all sense of humanity in the crushing monotony of standing in line?

"I should have brought a book." I decided. "If I had any. Seriously Walt, what are we supposed to do for money? Do we need to eat?"

"Well we don't _need_ to. But I personally dislike not eating. You won't die but it's really no fun. You'll either have to get a job, or scrounge."

I frowned. I was dead and I still had to deal with all the headaches of being alive. "What do you do?"

"Pardon?" Walt had been distracted by a young mother trying to control her rambunctious child.

"For money, what do you do?"

"A little of this, I little of that. I've been around long enough that I've managed to sock away a few bucks."

"Next!" The line moved forward, inching slowly, inexorably to us being in front.

"So, eventually I'm gonna have to do this again aren't I."

"Probably, yeah."

"How many, uh, identities have you had?"

Walt's eyes got a little distant as he thought back. "Fffour. Every couple of decades you have to make another one. It's more complicated now, what with computers and everything. When I was starting out all you had to do was get transferred or something and say you were someone else."

"How long have you been a Reaper?"

"A long time."

"What's the longest anyone's been around?"

Walt looked surprised at the question. "Oh jeeze, uh, oldest confirmed I think was just over a hundred years. But I've heard rumors about Reapers being around for centuries. That's probably just an old wives tale though."

"Next!"

"That's you Colombo." Walt shoved me forward.

* * *

This was, aside from being dead and never getting to see my loved ones again, very, very cool. I had a completely new set of papers. "Aw crap I have to memorize a different social security number now. That's gonna fuck me up."

"Hey just don't forget what your new name is." Ashley grinned. "That's what fucked me up.

I looked at my new driver's license. "This is how I look to people now?"

"That's you." she nodded. She was looking critically at my ensemble.

"What?"

"Eh, it'll do. Soon as you get a job or something you do need to get better 'going out' clothes."

"I've never aspired to be a fashion maven."

"What's your name?" she suddenly quizzed me.

"Oh, uh," I had to look. "James Adams." Well that shouldn't be too hard to remember. Now that I'd refreshed my memory, I remembered briefly thinking when I saw my new license that my new name was _John_ Adams.

It's not till we're standing in line to get into the club that it occurs to me to ask a very important question. "Okay so, how the hell do I find this one person in this place?"

"Well you look for danger signs. Eventually finding them will become almost instinctive. But you kind of have to be a detective. We talk to people and find out their names."

I froze, looking at her in horror. "I have to talk to people?!"

_To Be Continued..._


End file.
